My novel is now on iBookstore. Its ISBN is 978-1-105-16253-4
To check out the ePub version, please visit
http://itunes.apple.com/us/book/rice-fish-squid-lamb/id478659194?mt=11
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Blind, Deaf: happy, sad and funny.
That’s how I’d summarize my yet to be published second manuscript. I’m still hard at work editing the story and was looking through past versions yesterday when I thought, whoa! The story has evolved! In the beginning, my attempt on exorcising my guilt for ignoring a deaf and mute boy who wanted to befriend me led me to write the piece. It was meant to be part of another project: a short story collection. I started writing the fictional narrative in mid November 2010. I however couldn't resist revisiting the tale and adding more stuff to it. The characters in this story are very loud, especially this one boy called Wong Jian Fei/fatso who has a motor mouth and can't seem to properly pronounce some words with r. Anyway, these characters kept on jumping up and down in my head, insisting that I put their story on paper, or in current terms, have their words digitized.
Jian Fei is particularly good at harassing me, even in my dreams. One time he told me, 'Sulplies!!! Woi! Sleep again one? See, see, see! I'm light! I told you! You eat lice too much during lunch, and now have to take a nap! Haiya! Stupid! Get up! Write some more! I got more stoly to tell one! You leally want to know aaa?'
By end of 2010, Blind, Deaf became a full fledged tale.
I’d like to share with you one of the earliest and latest versions taken from Chapter 1. Let me know what you think of the two!
Version 2
‘Woi!’
She ignored the call. She sensed the bespectacled, fat boy, a good two inches shorter than her was clamoring for her attention. True enough, in seconds, she glimpsed the schoolboy - standing diagonally no more than eight feet from her - cupping his hands around his mouth as he attempted a second call.
‘Woi! Oi! Oi! Here! Look here aaa!’
She continued ignoring him while she paid the ice cream man for her favorite ice cream potong – a thick slice of sweet corn ice cream wedged between two crispy, thin wafers. Holding the ice cream by the wafers, she began licking the edges of the sweet slab as soon as the ice cream man handed her the treat. The rotund humpty dumpty began waving his hands toward her similar to one transmitting semaphores. Normally, she’d head straight back to her school after buying her treat. That late afternoon, she decided to stay around as she was curious what the portly boy was up to. She stood near the entrance to the all-boys school, where the ice cream man made himself a permanent fixture. The schoolgirl pretended to examine with interest the multicolored representations of ice cream flavors on the ice cream man’s ice box. It was as if she had never seen such a display before. The fatso persisted in irritating her. He had stepped up his attempt a notch by switching to Mandarin and calling her Amoi, Chinese girl. Of course he was seeking her attention, because there was no other girl around her. For all she knew, he might be ridiculing her at best, cursing her at worst. Still, she remained unflinched by the fat boy’s attempts. She ignored him like he was absolutely not worth a dime and her time.
‘Butakah?’
Her mouth hung loose as anger rose within her. That did it! How dare that halfwit ridiculed her as blind?
Version 68
Once upon a time, a pretty girl, not quite twelve, wondered to foreign land. Bread crumbs to guide her back to where she came from weren’t necessary. After all, her place, an all girls’ school, was merely across the street.
‘Woi!’
She ignored the call. She sensed the bespectacled, fat schoolboy, a good three inches shorter than her was clamoring for her attention. True enough, in seconds, she glimpsed the Chinese boy, standing diagonally no more than eight feet from her, cupping his hands around his mouth. He hollered again.
‘Woi! Woi! Woi! Here! Look here aaa!’
She pretended to ignore him while she paid the ice cream man for her favorite ice cream potong: a thick slice of sweet corn ice cream wedged between two crispy, thin wafers. Holding the ice cream by the wafers, she began licking the edges of the sweet slab as soon as the ice cream man handed her the treat. The rotund humpty dumpty waved his hands toward her similar to one transmitting semaphores. By habit, she’d head straight back to her school after buying her treat. That late afternoon, the schoolgirl in a prefect uniform – crisp, white, short sleeved blouse, a red tie and dark blue skirt – changed her mind. She was charmed by boy’s antics she decided to hang around. Something else too about the portly boy piqued her interest. Yes, the roundness of his belly. It reminded her of the pudgy dwarfs in Snow White.
But whose belly should it be, she pondered, Grumpy’s, Sneezy’s or Happy’s?
The schoolgirl stood near the entrance to the all-boys school, where the ice cream man made himself a permanent fixture. She examined with interest the multicolored representations of ice cream flavors on the ice cream man’s ice box. It was as if she had never seen such a display before. From the corners of her eyes, she kept watch on the hyper boy. Fatso persisted in irritating her. She sensed he had given up trying to get her attention in English, the common language trendy teenagers in Malaysia, a multi racial country, would normally converse in. He had moved on, a different strategy now to Mandarin. She believed he assumed she was Chinese with his calling her Amoi – Chinese girl – and spouting Mandarin words at her. Of course he was seeking her attention, for there was no other girl that side of the street. She couldn’t blame him for such innocent assumption; after all, she looked Chinese. What with her fair skin, the girl could easily pass for one despite her Malay last name: Abas. After a few seconds, the persistent shouts from the boy started to tick her off. For all she knew, he might be ridiculing her at best, cursing her at worst. She tried to remain indifferent to the fat boy’s attempt, ignoring him like he was absolutely not worth a dime and her time. Then, intentionally or not, he made a fatal mistake. He switched to Bahasa, the country’s national language, her mother tongue. As far as she could remember, the first word he uttered made her feel like punching him.
‘Buta?’
Her mouth hung loose as anger swelled within her. That did it! How dare the halfwit ridiculed her as buta – blind!
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Of Travels and Tales...Tupongato, Mendoza, Argentina
You must be asking what I was doing in the middle of nowhere. Ever in love with fine foods and breathtaking scenery, I couldn't resist braving this trip with my partner in crime to the far reaches of the wine country of Mendoza to sample the best of the area's local fare in an outrageously classy setting.
The place is called Andeluna. It's about a 90 minute drive from the center of Mendoza. You'll need to hire a car and driver to get there. Road signage can sometimes be unreliable.
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| Entrance, Andeluna |
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| Inside Andeluna |
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| Vineyard and a view of the Andes |
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| Dessert for the day. Menu items will change according to seasonal produce. |
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| Chefs hard at work |
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Of Travels and Tales...La Morra
I woke up this morning and looked outside. One word came to mind. Nebbia. It took me to recall my trip to a small comune in Piemonte three years ago.
It was late October and I was in the town of La Morra which rests atop a hill. The sprawling view of the undulating country far below it was something out of a travel magazine. One was treated to a patchwork of colors. The grapes the region is famous for were more than ripe for harvest, days were getting shorter and Mother Nature had the plants shut down their food making factories. And by the way, the grapes are called Nebbiolo, probably derived from nebbia since when they ripen, their texture gives off a foggy or frosted look.
One thing which strikes me as uniquely Piemontese is the nebbia which rolls in around this time of the year. When I was in La Morra, I had the privilege of witnessing the fog shrouding the town like a mystery.
I took a few photos of this wonderful act of nature. Here are some of my favorites:
Unfortunately when I leaned out of my window this morning, it hit me there wasn't any nebbia I could be thankful for. It was the despicable haze...
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| Autumn leaves in La Morra, Italy |
One thing which strikes me as uniquely Piemontese is the nebbia which rolls in around this time of the year. When I was in La Morra, I had the privilege of witnessing the fog shrouding the town like a mystery.
 |
| La Morra, in nebbia |
I took a few photos of this wonderful act of nature. Here are some of my favorites:
Unfortunately when I leaned out of my window this morning, it hit me there wasn't any nebbia I could be thankful for. It was the despicable haze...
Monday, September 5, 2011
Three teenagers, two adults and one bittersweet fairy tale.
Blind, Deaf - A summary...
The year is 1983. In the sleepy town of Johor Bahru, Malaysia, three
unlikely teenagers become fast friends.
Amelia Abas is a liberal Muslim Malay who’s mad about fairy tales; she
won’t touch anything that’s not Grimms or Perrault. Wong Ruo Li, a Buddhist Chinese who goes to
school opposite hers, is tall, handsome and smitten by her. He unfortunately is deaf. His brother, Wong Jian
Fei has problems with his speech yet revels in mercilessly teasing Amelia for
her love of fairy tales. Fat and short Jian Fei secretly adores Amelia,
but hides his feelings out of respect for his brother. On Saturdays, the
teenagers read, play games and converse by a stream. Rumor mongering, where the participants
pretend to either be blind or deaf, is one of their favorite games. Amelia devises special names-Jack and Bean-
for the brothers on one of the afternoons they spend together. She too can't help concocting a fairy tale
for the group and tells them they'll share sad rainfalls and everything
nice. Her fairy tale has a happy ever after and Amelia blissfully
imagines her tall and handsome Prince Charming and her cutting a multi-tiered
wedding cake. Jian Fei, the skeptic, ridicules the whole thing as crap
but Amelia doesn’t care. At year end, the good friends make a pact to
meet as usual on Saturdays even though they’ll be in distant high
schools. Fate intervenes; Amelia and her family disappear from town in
1984.
Twenty three years on, the grownup Bean
serendipitously finds Amelia in California. Both have changed: Amelia,
now a single mother with a deaf child, disbelieves in fairy tales and Bean,
surprisingly tall, handsome, yet still smitten by Amelia, is polite, far from
the philistine he was. The adults exchange stories to learn what the three
friends have been up to over the lost years. Thus begins a journey of
discovery into startling coincidences they experienced which initiates Amelia
to remember her long forgotten tale.
But like all fairy tales, what are the bitter
and sweet parts Amelia will discover?
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| Possible cover art for my second book |
Friday, August 26, 2011
Sweet corn ice cream made me write Blind, Deaf
Like many weight watchers, eating ice cream - the creamy, sinful kind - makes me feel guilty, especially if I over indulge. One sultry afternoon back in November 2010, I didn't finish three scoops or god forbid, a tub. I still felt bad despite the ordinary portion I had. It was a tiny, modest cup of sweet corn ice cream costing a mere SGD1. In my part of the world, that flavor is as common as vanilla is in the West. As I was letting my ice cream melt in my mouth, old memories, uninvited yet welcomed just the same, fluttered back to me.
I savored them all.
I thought of all the faraway places where I'd sampled ice cream. First, there was a bus terminus a little outside Santiago. I'd just been spit out by a collectivo from a trip to Cajon de Maipo - the day was dry and hot and an image of a helado, cold and sweet, danced in my head. Next, I was by the beach off Somerset West: an ice cream shop just opened nearby as evidenced by a screaming sandwich board the owner left outside the store. A hippie walked past me and happily shouted 'Have a lekker day!' I felt the sweltering sun over South Africa and the heat made me rush for the ice cream line. Then came a little gelateria in the middle of the foodie capital of Alba - a late night sorbetto sounded celestial after my heavenly Italian dinner at a slow food restaurant on the ground floor of Piazza Savona...
And then the memory that gave my heart a tumult came. I was not quite eleven, back in my hometown in Malaysia. It was past six in the evening. My school uniform was still crisp. My hair - tied in a pigtail with a blue ribbon at the end - remained unruffled even though by this time, my friends with pigtails and pony tails had let their hair down, literally and figuratively. A tag on my school tie said 'Prefect', so you can imagine how perfectly a goody-two-shoes kid I was. School was over; I was waiting for the orange school van to cart me and my girlfriends home. We were laughing, chatting and eating ice cream to while time away. We were standing outside the boys school opposite our school because it was our van's pick up point. It was convenient for us, too, given an ice cream vendor had made himself a permanent fixture nearby. In my right hand, I had my favorite ice cream - the luscious sweet corn on a cone - a treat classified by my parents as junk food. A reminder from them not to spend my pocket money unwisely rang somewhere in my mind. But when you're not quite eleven, such advice typically fell into oblivion.
One of my friends cracked a joked and we laughed out loud. Suddenly, the girl to my right stopped laughing. She, with a frown like an old maid's, nudged me a few times. I followed the direction of her pouted lips. 'Your trouble's back,' she remarked.
My laughter died. Some ten meters away, three boys stood. The one in the middle - lanky, very fair, and handsome - was my trouble since the beginning of my last year in elementary school(that's like Grade 6, I think). He was all eyes on me. I knew he was watching me like a hawk. I was surrounded by my van mates and if any one of them started to stray from the group, I bet he would make his move. He'd become bold and start making a few hand signs, all gibberish to me, all meaningful to him. But not that day because I quickly reminded my friends to stay close to me, protect me.
There was however nothing evil about him. In fact, he was this sweet, angelic looking guy who constantly wore his heart on his sleeve for me. I nonetheless thought he was the naive one who didn't understand anything about compatibility. He's Chinese, I'm Malay. He's Buddhist and in contrast, I'm Muslim. And sadly, he's deaf and mute. I'm not. To me, all these differences conspired to keep us apart. Never the twain shall meet...
The first time he tried to communicate with me, my friends thought he was a zany. Entertained, they convulsed in laughter. I, totally confused by his moves, kept quiet. After about five minutes of fruitless moves, he gave up and left us. The next day, he, full of determination, marched to our group and made his second attempt. One of us luckily realized he was deaf and mute. My girlfriends, understanding his plight, instantly became thoughtful and tried to help me interpret what he wanted to tell me. Then someone cracked the code and exhilaratingly told everyone he had a major crush on me. He blushed. My other friends jumped up and down in excitement, clapped their hands and did high fives. I grew mortified. Every time he completed making his signs for me, my girlfriends would reassure him with their spasmodic body language that I got the message. Baffled as always, I tried my best to remain unmoved. He'd nod at my friends, thanking them, I suppose, smile shyly at me and leave us. Worse still, I'd be teased by my friends during the endless rides home. It was as if I was guilty of being in love with that boy, instead of the other way around.
One fine day, something in me snapped. I lashed out at my friends during a ride home that I was never ever interested in him! Were they blind? I screamed. Couldn't they see that we were different? Couldn't they see I never said anything back to him? I had a temper of an exploding Vesuvius. Silence reigned in the school van for a while. I don't know if my memory serves me well, but I had a faint recollection of our driver asking me if everything was fine at a traffic light junction. 'Yes!' I snapped back, 'I'm not in love at all with that boy!'
The ice cream eating sessions thereafter turned out to be more somber. If ever my ice cream posse got a little thinner, the handsome boy would still approach us. Focusing on me, he wove his hand signs. I kept a stoic face as I feigned disinterest and channeled my concentration on my sweet corn ice cream. My friends simply looked at him apologetically, not wanting to help him out after my outburst. One time, when none of my friends was looking, he slipped a little note into my schoolbag. I chucked it away without reading it.
I gazed with regret on my melting treat that sizzling afternoon last year and thought what a total jerk I was to completely ignore the boy. All he ever wanted was probably a simple friendship. I could hardly eat the ice cream because the guilt I felt was intense. When I got home the same day, I starting writing a story based on the boy in my childhood...All because of a simple sweet corn ice cream.
One more thing - I thought of a song before I started my manuscript. Here's me signing off with A Simple Kind of Life http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kRpZJ9EgJho
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More to come - a synopsis on Blind, Deaf.
I savored them all.
I thought of all the faraway places where I'd sampled ice cream. First, there was a bus terminus a little outside Santiago. I'd just been spit out by a collectivo from a trip to Cajon de Maipo - the day was dry and hot and an image of a helado, cold and sweet, danced in my head. Next, I was by the beach off Somerset West: an ice cream shop just opened nearby as evidenced by a screaming sandwich board the owner left outside the store. A hippie walked past me and happily shouted 'Have a lekker day!' I felt the sweltering sun over South Africa and the heat made me rush for the ice cream line. Then came a little gelateria in the middle of the foodie capital of Alba - a late night sorbetto sounded celestial after my heavenly Italian dinner at a slow food restaurant on the ground floor of Piazza Savona...
 |
| Helado on a hot day in the outskirts of Santiago |
 |
| Yummy ys off Somerset West |
 |
| Sorbetto on a summer night in Alba |
And then the memory that gave my heart a tumult came. I was not quite eleven, back in my hometown in Malaysia. It was past six in the evening. My school uniform was still crisp. My hair - tied in a pigtail with a blue ribbon at the end - remained unruffled even though by this time, my friends with pigtails and pony tails had let their hair down, literally and figuratively. A tag on my school tie said 'Prefect', so you can imagine how perfectly a goody-two-shoes kid I was. School was over; I was waiting for the orange school van to cart me and my girlfriends home. We were laughing, chatting and eating ice cream to while time away. We were standing outside the boys school opposite our school because it was our van's pick up point. It was convenient for us, too, given an ice cream vendor had made himself a permanent fixture nearby. In my right hand, I had my favorite ice cream - the luscious sweet corn on a cone - a treat classified by my parents as junk food. A reminder from them not to spend my pocket money unwisely rang somewhere in my mind. But when you're not quite eleven, such advice typically fell into oblivion.
One of my friends cracked a joked and we laughed out loud. Suddenly, the girl to my right stopped laughing. She, with a frown like an old maid's, nudged me a few times. I followed the direction of her pouted lips. 'Your trouble's back,' she remarked.
My laughter died. Some ten meters away, three boys stood. The one in the middle - lanky, very fair, and handsome - was my trouble since the beginning of my last year in elementary school(that's like Grade 6, I think). He was all eyes on me. I knew he was watching me like a hawk. I was surrounded by my van mates and if any one of them started to stray from the group, I bet he would make his move. He'd become bold and start making a few hand signs, all gibberish to me, all meaningful to him. But not that day because I quickly reminded my friends to stay close to me, protect me.
There was however nothing evil about him. In fact, he was this sweet, angelic looking guy who constantly wore his heart on his sleeve for me. I nonetheless thought he was the naive one who didn't understand anything about compatibility. He's Chinese, I'm Malay. He's Buddhist and in contrast, I'm Muslim. And sadly, he's deaf and mute. I'm not. To me, all these differences conspired to keep us apart. Never the twain shall meet...
The first time he tried to communicate with me, my friends thought he was a zany. Entertained, they convulsed in laughter. I, totally confused by his moves, kept quiet. After about five minutes of fruitless moves, he gave up and left us. The next day, he, full of determination, marched to our group and made his second attempt. One of us luckily realized he was deaf and mute. My girlfriends, understanding his plight, instantly became thoughtful and tried to help me interpret what he wanted to tell me. Then someone cracked the code and exhilaratingly told everyone he had a major crush on me. He blushed. My other friends jumped up and down in excitement, clapped their hands and did high fives. I grew mortified. Every time he completed making his signs for me, my girlfriends would reassure him with their spasmodic body language that I got the message. Baffled as always, I tried my best to remain unmoved. He'd nod at my friends, thanking them, I suppose, smile shyly at me and leave us. Worse still, I'd be teased by my friends during the endless rides home. It was as if I was guilty of being in love with that boy, instead of the other way around.
One fine day, something in me snapped. I lashed out at my friends during a ride home that I was never ever interested in him! Were they blind? I screamed. Couldn't they see that we were different? Couldn't they see I never said anything back to him? I had a temper of an exploding Vesuvius. Silence reigned in the school van for a while. I don't know if my memory serves me well, but I had a faint recollection of our driver asking me if everything was fine at a traffic light junction. 'Yes!' I snapped back, 'I'm not in love at all with that boy!'
The ice cream eating sessions thereafter turned out to be more somber. If ever my ice cream posse got a little thinner, the handsome boy would still approach us. Focusing on me, he wove his hand signs. I kept a stoic face as I feigned disinterest and channeled my concentration on my sweet corn ice cream. My friends simply looked at him apologetically, not wanting to help him out after my outburst. One time, when none of my friends was looking, he slipped a little note into my schoolbag. I chucked it away without reading it.
I gazed with regret on my melting treat that sizzling afternoon last year and thought what a total jerk I was to completely ignore the boy. All he ever wanted was probably a simple friendship. I could hardly eat the ice cream because the guilt I felt was intense. When I got home the same day, I starting writing a story based on the boy in my childhood...All because of a simple sweet corn ice cream.
One more thing - I thought of a song before I started my manuscript. Here's me signing off with A Simple Kind of Life http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kRpZJ9EgJho
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
More to come - a synopsis on Blind, Deaf.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Q&A on Rice, Fish, Squid and Lamb - Part Two
Question: Besides the sporadic memories, what other things inspired you to craft the various tales in your book?
Miriiam Isa: Songs. I'm really into the top 40s and some really non standard stuff.
Q: 80's songs, like what Lila, Liz's kid sister, sang in the book?
MI: Not quite. Lila by the way, doesn't sing; she butchers songs because she's totally tone deaf. My taste on songs is pretty diverse, and I can provide some examples for illustration.
Q: Go ahead then.
MI: Star In A Jar is inspired by If The Stars Were Mine by Melody Gardot. It's a feelgood, lighthearted jazz and I couldn't help thinking that the 5 year Liz has the same exuberance as the song when she meets Adam for the first time. I wrote the part where Adam and Liz are having dinner during a rainy night, in a piece called Eclairs, while I was listening to Santa Maria del Buen Ayre from the movie Shall We Dance? JLo and Richard Gere did a tango with this song. I was imagining that the song, at a slower tempo, was playing in the background in Liz's dimly lit room. Romantic, isn't it? I'm such a sucker for romantic stuff.(laughs) On another note, I love Coldplay's The Scientist but it's Natasha Bedingfield's haunting cover that I thought of as the two main characters meet for the first time after so many years. My personal opinion is some lines from the song, like 'I had to find you, tell you I need you', 'I'm going back to the start' strike the right chord for the date as they really represent what's probably going on in the characters' minds. The two characters wish to say a lot of things, but certainly, due to the limited time they have, some are left unspoken. Oh, and one more example if I may - I had Bebel Gilberto's 'Cade voce?' playing in my head as I wrote about Adam and Liz looking wistfully toward the body of water and the Ambrose-Carlyle bridge one afternoon.
Q: I'm not familiar with the foreign songs. Tell me more, for example, about Bebel Gilberto's song and that Santa Maria number.
MI: Cade voce? is in Portuguese. It's a sad song about longing, about wanting to see someone badly, about questioning why one can't see the truth about the love of one's life. In a way, the song presages what Liz will experience down the road. Santa Maria meanwhile is a tango number and to me, it perfectly reflects the couple's mood of parrying each other with different moves during the meal.
Q: OK, I get it. So you're not kidding when you said songs inspired your writing, too?
MI: Yup. Seriously, I can list all the songs which go with different parts of the book. In chronological order, too.
Q: Seriously?
MI: Uh-huh. Here it goes -I've listed the one for Star In A Jar. For Liz's dream in Greek Myths, it's Goodnight by Melody Gardot, again. Just try to listen to the song if you haven't already; it's a very sexy number about a guy staying up late to see his girl sleeping! Then I think Santa Baby sung by Madonna is apropos for Christmas Lounge. It's a very festive song for the occasion. I've covered the song for Eclairs. We've got a lot of 80's songs, Debbie Gibson's, which Lila warbles for Negotiated Deal. Those were the in songs circa 1988. Laura Fygi's I Will Wait For You is perfect for Promises In The Sand. It's an ironic song nonetheless because none of the main characters waits for the other. I love the beat, though. I think about a Jacky Cheung's Cantonese song, and I believe the song is called Mui Tin Ngoi Ler Tor Yat Seh(Love you more every day)- pardon my bad Cantonese- as Liz writes to Adam about her then boyfriend, Jay, wooing her from Hong Kong. Lonely Afternoon by Shakatak was what I had in mind when I wrote Football. You've got The Scientist by Natasha Bedingfield for the start of The Meeting. There's this song by Sam Brown, let's see...Yup, Kissing Gate for the part Liz waits for Jay on the steps of 77 Mass. Ave. For the last bit of Italy 2009, when Liz heads back to the car, I imagine Someday by Gota is playing in the background. Finally, the song which Adam finds on the radio as he and his family drive home is Breakeven by The Script.
Q: Those songs can make one hell of a diverse collection on a CD.
MI: You can say that again! In fact, I strongly suggest to the readers to play these songs in the background as they read parts of the book I mentioned earlier. Please check them out on Youtube! They make for an extrasensory appeal to the book.
Q: Interesting! Now, if you were to summarize this whole book with just one song, what would it be?
MI: Hmm, that's a pretty hard one. I guess, well - this is just on top of my head- I think Adele's Rolling In The Deep would do justice.
Q: That's a very angry song, but let me ask you this -Why?
MI: I agree with you it's a very angry song. Adele wrote it right after she had a bad breakup. In the same vein, I wrote Rice, Fish, Squid and Lamb to deal with my devastating loss. And on both accounts, Adele and I were mad. Mad as in angry. Someone leaves you in the pits and never even bothers to say sorry, or at the very least, I didn't mean it. Well, maybe for me, I probably went a bit beyond angry because I realized that my ex premeditated the whole thing on hurting me again.
Q: Care to elaborate on that point?
MI: He planned everything from the start. He used the excuse that he owed me money to see me. Then when we met, he didn't pay me back but kept me hanging on to his words. He picked up I had some problems at home and he used that knowledge to his advantage. He made me crave to see him more with the email he wrote me after our initial meeting. He's good - it was one email after another. They were like drugs to me, and I was hooked on waiting for the next email to arrive. He's super smooth, I have to give him credit for that. He'd been feeding me all these things about how dreadful he felt not being able to catch up with me because of his heavy schedule when I was in town, how he was always thinking, dreaming about me etc. Because I'd convinced myself he was the guy I knew so many years back, I simply couldn't see beyond the pack of lies he wrote. Then out of the blue, he dumped me! Without even settling his debt. He gave me a reason for why he wanted to end the relationship, the friendship or whatever you call it. As usual, his pretext was a complete lie. It's like, he just woke up one day and told me he didn't want to see me anymore. He even had the gall to tell me what we had was nothing! And the saddest part is, he didn't even apologize to me. I was left out in the cold again wondering what I'd done to him to deserve such treatment. I came to the conclusion he wanted to see me because he needed to bolster his ego. He's no longer physically attractive. At 41, despite his appearance- flat, flabby and graying - he had me fall for him all over again. Obviously that gave him a great sense of pride and accomplishment. So I was traumatized because I felt used by that, oh, I can't say the words to describe him here, can I?
Q: It depends on what you have in mind.
MI: I think I can't say them here without insulting his mother.
Q: OK, then don't say it. By the way, did you ever think perhaps he deliberated many times, found out he couldn't have any future with you, and figured the best thing he could do was to let you go?
MI: Definitely no. He told me lies. He said he doesn't love his family and his family doesn't quite love him. But I found out the opposite from anecdotes from friends and photos made public to me. The truth is completely different from the picture he painted for me. So you can see why I became completely incensed. Went cuckoo in the head for a while! (smiles widely)
Q: You were one angry lady!
MI: Yup, cross me and I'll unleash this tremendous wrath! There's nothing to compare to a woman scorned.
Q: Luckily you channeled all your anger into a book.
MI: Fortunately so! And that's why you have this really crazy, crazy love story with a crazy selection of songs to go with it!
Miriiam Isa: Songs. I'm really into the top 40s and some really non standard stuff.
Q: 80's songs, like what Lila, Liz's kid sister, sang in the book?
MI: Not quite. Lila by the way, doesn't sing; she butchers songs because she's totally tone deaf. My taste on songs is pretty diverse, and I can provide some examples for illustration.
Q: Go ahead then.
MI: Star In A Jar is inspired by If The Stars Were Mine by Melody Gardot. It's a feelgood, lighthearted jazz and I couldn't help thinking that the 5 year Liz has the same exuberance as the song when she meets Adam for the first time. I wrote the part where Adam and Liz are having dinner during a rainy night, in a piece called Eclairs, while I was listening to Santa Maria del Buen Ayre from the movie Shall We Dance? JLo and Richard Gere did a tango with this song. I was imagining that the song, at a slower tempo, was playing in the background in Liz's dimly lit room. Romantic, isn't it? I'm such a sucker for romantic stuff.(laughs) On another note, I love Coldplay's The Scientist but it's Natasha Bedingfield's haunting cover that I thought of as the two main characters meet for the first time after so many years. My personal opinion is some lines from the song, like 'I had to find you, tell you I need you', 'I'm going back to the start' strike the right chord for the date as they really represent what's probably going on in the characters' minds. The two characters wish to say a lot of things, but certainly, due to the limited time they have, some are left unspoken. Oh, and one more example if I may - I had Bebel Gilberto's 'Cade voce?' playing in my head as I wrote about Adam and Liz looking wistfully toward the body of water and the Ambrose-Carlyle bridge one afternoon.
Q: I'm not familiar with the foreign songs. Tell me more, for example, about Bebel Gilberto's song and that Santa Maria number.
MI: Cade voce? is in Portuguese. It's a sad song about longing, about wanting to see someone badly, about questioning why one can't see the truth about the love of one's life. In a way, the song presages what Liz will experience down the road. Santa Maria meanwhile is a tango number and to me, it perfectly reflects the couple's mood of parrying each other with different moves during the meal.
Q: OK, I get it. So you're not kidding when you said songs inspired your writing, too?
MI: Yup. Seriously, I can list all the songs which go with different parts of the book. In chronological order, too.
Q: Seriously?
MI: Uh-huh. Here it goes -I've listed the one for Star In A Jar. For Liz's dream in Greek Myths, it's Goodnight by Melody Gardot, again. Just try to listen to the song if you haven't already; it's a very sexy number about a guy staying up late to see his girl sleeping! Then I think Santa Baby sung by Madonna is apropos for Christmas Lounge. It's a very festive song for the occasion. I've covered the song for Eclairs. We've got a lot of 80's songs, Debbie Gibson's, which Lila warbles for Negotiated Deal. Those were the in songs circa 1988. Laura Fygi's I Will Wait For You is perfect for Promises In The Sand. It's an ironic song nonetheless because none of the main characters waits for the other. I love the beat, though. I think about a Jacky Cheung's Cantonese song, and I believe the song is called Mui Tin Ngoi Ler Tor Yat Seh(Love you more every day)- pardon my bad Cantonese- as Liz writes to Adam about her then boyfriend, Jay, wooing her from Hong Kong. Lonely Afternoon by Shakatak was what I had in mind when I wrote Football. You've got The Scientist by Natasha Bedingfield for the start of The Meeting. There's this song by Sam Brown, let's see...Yup, Kissing Gate for the part Liz waits for Jay on the steps of 77 Mass. Ave. For the last bit of Italy 2009, when Liz heads back to the car, I imagine Someday by Gota is playing in the background. Finally, the song which Adam finds on the radio as he and his family drive home is Breakeven by The Script.
Q: Those songs can make one hell of a diverse collection on a CD.
MI: You can say that again! In fact, I strongly suggest to the readers to play these songs in the background as they read parts of the book I mentioned earlier. Please check them out on Youtube! They make for an extrasensory appeal to the book.
Q: Interesting! Now, if you were to summarize this whole book with just one song, what would it be?
MI: Hmm, that's a pretty hard one. I guess, well - this is just on top of my head- I think Adele's Rolling In The Deep would do justice.
Q: That's a very angry song, but let me ask you this -Why?
MI: I agree with you it's a very angry song. Adele wrote it right after she had a bad breakup. In the same vein, I wrote Rice, Fish, Squid and Lamb to deal with my devastating loss. And on both accounts, Adele and I were mad. Mad as in angry. Someone leaves you in the pits and never even bothers to say sorry, or at the very least, I didn't mean it. Well, maybe for me, I probably went a bit beyond angry because I realized that my ex premeditated the whole thing on hurting me again.
Q: Care to elaborate on that point?
MI: He planned everything from the start. He used the excuse that he owed me money to see me. Then when we met, he didn't pay me back but kept me hanging on to his words. He picked up I had some problems at home and he used that knowledge to his advantage. He made me crave to see him more with the email he wrote me after our initial meeting. He's good - it was one email after another. They were like drugs to me, and I was hooked on waiting for the next email to arrive. He's super smooth, I have to give him credit for that. He'd been feeding me all these things about how dreadful he felt not being able to catch up with me because of his heavy schedule when I was in town, how he was always thinking, dreaming about me etc. Because I'd convinced myself he was the guy I knew so many years back, I simply couldn't see beyond the pack of lies he wrote. Then out of the blue, he dumped me! Without even settling his debt. He gave me a reason for why he wanted to end the relationship, the friendship or whatever you call it. As usual, his pretext was a complete lie. It's like, he just woke up one day and told me he didn't want to see me anymore. He even had the gall to tell me what we had was nothing! And the saddest part is, he didn't even apologize to me. I was left out in the cold again wondering what I'd done to him to deserve such treatment. I came to the conclusion he wanted to see me because he needed to bolster his ego. He's no longer physically attractive. At 41, despite his appearance- flat, flabby and graying - he had me fall for him all over again. Obviously that gave him a great sense of pride and accomplishment. So I was traumatized because I felt used by that, oh, I can't say the words to describe him here, can I?
Q: It depends on what you have in mind.
MI: I think I can't say them here without insulting his mother.
Q: OK, then don't say it. By the way, did you ever think perhaps he deliberated many times, found out he couldn't have any future with you, and figured the best thing he could do was to let you go?
MI: Definitely no. He told me lies. He said he doesn't love his family and his family doesn't quite love him. But I found out the opposite from anecdotes from friends and photos made public to me. The truth is completely different from the picture he painted for me. So you can see why I became completely incensed. Went cuckoo in the head for a while! (smiles widely)
Q: You were one angry lady!
MI: Yup, cross me and I'll unleash this tremendous wrath! There's nothing to compare to a woman scorned.
Q: Luckily you channeled all your anger into a book.
MI: Fortunately so! And that's why you have this really crazy, crazy love story with a crazy selection of songs to go with it!
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Q&A on Rice, Fish, Squid and Lamb - Part One
The following is a collection of questions provided by my readers and friends who have read RFSL.
Question: What made you write RFSL?
Miriiam Isa: Therapy. I was under immense emotional distress after finding out that my ex boyfriend had been playing games with me, yet again, that I needed to do something as an escape. Writing down my thoughts helped me vent out my pain.
Q: Did you ever thought of a storyline for the book right from the start?
MI: No, hardly. I was writing on a stream of consciousness basis, and I never even imagined that what I wrote would turn into a book.
Q: How did you come up with the headings?
MI: Those were added as markers at the very beginning of my writing. I had a huge problem. You see, I just pushed myself to write every time I recalled things I did in the past with my ex. And these memories came back to me at random. Therefore, I was writing disjointed pieces most times. It was hard to keep track of all the different stuff I'd written and thus I intentionally wrote headings related to places or certain events to help myself out.
Q: What you're saying is you had absolutely no control on the way the chapters shape up?
MI: Exactly! During the first few months of writing, I was basically writing down unconnected parts of the book. But little by little, the chapters started to take form. At one point, I thought I was going to end up with a collection of short stories. To my surprise, the end result turned out to be a book.
Q: Did you have any friends read your pieces as you were working on them?
MI: Yes. Whenever I felt like I'd written an interesting piece, I'd post some excerpts on my facebook account.
Q: And how did your friends react?
MI: They wanted to see more and they commented they liked the pieces! That was the time I knew that this writing thing is going to be enjoyable - because I could make other people have fun reading my work.
Q: How much of the book is fiction, and how much is real?
MI: A small portion of it is based on real life experiences. Of course it's a given that I've been to all the places I described in the book. Otherwise I couldn't write about such far flung locales like Hahei, Montagu, Buenos Aires. Most of the book is purely fiction, and that's why it's not called a memoir.
Q: It reads like one.
MI: Yes, it does. I think I subconsciously meant it to read like so. I've heard comments from some close friends that they couldn't even distinguish between what's true and what's not in the book. When I wrote, it felt like I was writing my journal. Truth be told, I hated writing journals when I was a teenager. I only did that for class assignments and even then, I wrote about non sentimental things, never about my personal life. Strangely, I enjoyed writing my 'journal' the second time around.
Q: And why is that?
MI: Because most of the things I wrote were purely make believe! I felt that I was exercising my license to be as creative as I possibly could. I really had a great time on top of feeling quite cathartic with the writing.
Q: You mentioned some parts of the book are based on real life experience. Give us an example, that is besides the travels you mentioned.
MI: Hmm, let's see...There was a rather scandalous sketch of me done by my ex.
Q: Ah! And your sister found out about it, and harassed you night and day, just like in the book?
MI: Unfortunately, none of my sisters knew about the sketch. What happened to me was even worse than the incidence when Lila(the main character's kid sister) discovered the sketch of Liz.
Q: So what happened?
MI: My mom found the sketch. And I was completely in hot soup! I hope my mom is not reading this now!
Q: How did you deal with that situation?
MI: Let's just say I gave a very good explanation to my mom. I can't repeat what I said to her here, just in case...
Q: Just in case?
MI: Just in case she has totally forgotten my real explanation so many years ago. Mothers can be hard on you, sometimes. And my mom, despite how lovely she is, is no exception.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
If you have any question on Rice, Fish, Squid and Lamb that you like Miriiam to answer, please email Miriiam at miriiam.isa@gmail.com
Question: What made you write RFSL?
Miriiam Isa: Therapy. I was under immense emotional distress after finding out that my ex boyfriend had been playing games with me, yet again, that I needed to do something as an escape. Writing down my thoughts helped me vent out my pain.
Q: Did you ever thought of a storyline for the book right from the start?
MI: No, hardly. I was writing on a stream of consciousness basis, and I never even imagined that what I wrote would turn into a book.
Q: How did you come up with the headings?
MI: Those were added as markers at the very beginning of my writing. I had a huge problem. You see, I just pushed myself to write every time I recalled things I did in the past with my ex. And these memories came back to me at random. Therefore, I was writing disjointed pieces most times. It was hard to keep track of all the different stuff I'd written and thus I intentionally wrote headings related to places or certain events to help myself out.
Q: What you're saying is you had absolutely no control on the way the chapters shape up?
MI: Exactly! During the first few months of writing, I was basically writing down unconnected parts of the book. But little by little, the chapters started to take form. At one point, I thought I was going to end up with a collection of short stories. To my surprise, the end result turned out to be a book.
Q: Did you have any friends read your pieces as you were working on them?
MI: Yes. Whenever I felt like I'd written an interesting piece, I'd post some excerpts on my facebook account.
Q: And how did your friends react?
MI: They wanted to see more and they commented they liked the pieces! That was the time I knew that this writing thing is going to be enjoyable - because I could make other people have fun reading my work.
Q: How much of the book is fiction, and how much is real?
MI: A small portion of it is based on real life experiences. Of course it's a given that I've been to all the places I described in the book. Otherwise I couldn't write about such far flung locales like Hahei, Montagu, Buenos Aires. Most of the book is purely fiction, and that's why it's not called a memoir.
Q: It reads like one.
MI: Yes, it does. I think I subconsciously meant it to read like so. I've heard comments from some close friends that they couldn't even distinguish between what's true and what's not in the book. When I wrote, it felt like I was writing my journal. Truth be told, I hated writing journals when I was a teenager. I only did that for class assignments and even then, I wrote about non sentimental things, never about my personal life. Strangely, I enjoyed writing my 'journal' the second time around.
Q: And why is that?
MI: Because most of the things I wrote were purely make believe! I felt that I was exercising my license to be as creative as I possibly could. I really had a great time on top of feeling quite cathartic with the writing.
Q: You mentioned some parts of the book are based on real life experience. Give us an example, that is besides the travels you mentioned.
MI: Hmm, let's see...There was a rather scandalous sketch of me done by my ex.
Q: Ah! And your sister found out about it, and harassed you night and day, just like in the book?
MI: Unfortunately, none of my sisters knew about the sketch. What happened to me was even worse than the incidence when Lila(the main character's kid sister) discovered the sketch of Liz.
Q: So what happened?
MI: My mom found the sketch. And I was completely in hot soup! I hope my mom is not reading this now!
Q: How did you deal with that situation?
MI: Let's just say I gave a very good explanation to my mom. I can't repeat what I said to her here, just in case...
Q: Just in case?
MI: Just in case she has totally forgotten my real explanation so many years ago. Mothers can be hard on you, sometimes. And my mom, despite how lovely she is, is no exception.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
If you have any question on Rice, Fish, Squid and Lamb that you like Miriiam to answer, please email Miriiam at miriiam.isa@gmail.com
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Rice, Fish, Squid and Lamb
No, no, no, it's not a cookbook.
RFSL is very loosely based on my own coming-of-age real life experiences. The book materialized from a major meltdown I had after my past returned to me and tried to ruin my life. I cried buckets daily: angry that I fell for him again, incensed that he was playing games with me. A few friends asked me to seek help(euphemism for see a shrink). Sorry, not my cup of tea! With my constant disappearances into the washroom at my office(really, I was just crying), some wondered whether I was voodoo'ed. Either that or I was having a bad case of the runs. A select few luckily know me far too well for my stubbornness for e.g. my reluctance to seek professional help. They advised me to write a journal to vent out my angst. I believe in self-medication, and therefore took their advice. What a great thing that turned out to be because a month later, I'd written about 40,000 words. I felt a little bit relieved. Three months on, my writing started to have a firmer form of a collection of short stories. I kept at it, and roughly seven months after my meltdown, I had about 175,000+ words. By then, the tears had disappeared and I felt a whole world better. Reading the entire journal for the first time, I just couldn't help thinking what a crazy story I'd woven because the tale is no longer about me.
It's on Ms. Ludmila Liz Johann.
The story begins with Liz, awake and much sobered from an attempt to end her life the night before. She chastises Jay, her husband for not bringing her Valium for breakfast, then wolfs down her first meal and steals her husband's breakfast as well. After resting for a while, she asks Jay if he's ready to learn what made her almost suicidal. Thus begins her tales on Adam, her first love. Liz transports us to her encounters with Adam, starting from when she's a mischievous 5-year old in her hometown in Malaysia. She says the wrong thing to the right person, and makes her dad get her to promise him to never say 'I love you' to any boy. Liz grows to be an innocent 16-year old preppie in California who falls in love for the first time, a wiser 17-year old back in Malaysia for summer who demands a commitment from her then boyfriend. Tragedy strikes, and Liz loses Adam before she starts college. Twenty one years on, Adam reconnects with her and both exchange e-mails that portray the different paths the former couple took over the years. They agree to meet in person, and Adam returns her the key to her journal. Liz manages to retrieve her journal, and after she reads it, we discover that the whole story told so far is encapsulated in that book. Liz, indeed, has completely forced herself to forget most things on Adam after their breakup in the summer of 88.
What drives Liz suicidal after her date in 2009 with her ex? How does Jay figure into the picture? To find out more, check out the book at the following link: http://www.amazon.com/Rice-fish-squid-lamb-Miriiam/dp/0557531527
And yes, you can browse through a few pages of the book on the Amazon site. Happy exploring!
RFSL is very loosely based on my own coming-of-age real life experiences. The book materialized from a major meltdown I had after my past returned to me and tried to ruin my life. I cried buckets daily: angry that I fell for him again, incensed that he was playing games with me. A few friends asked me to seek help(euphemism for see a shrink). Sorry, not my cup of tea! With my constant disappearances into the washroom at my office(really, I was just crying), some wondered whether I was voodoo'ed. Either that or I was having a bad case of the runs. A select few luckily know me far too well for my stubbornness for e.g. my reluctance to seek professional help. They advised me to write a journal to vent out my angst. I believe in self-medication, and therefore took their advice. What a great thing that turned out to be because a month later, I'd written about 40,000 words. I felt a little bit relieved. Three months on, my writing started to have a firmer form of a collection of short stories. I kept at it, and roughly seven months after my meltdown, I had about 175,000+ words. By then, the tears had disappeared and I felt a whole world better. Reading the entire journal for the first time, I just couldn't help thinking what a crazy story I'd woven because the tale is no longer about me.
It's on Ms. Ludmila Liz Johann.
The story begins with Liz, awake and much sobered from an attempt to end her life the night before. She chastises Jay, her husband for not bringing her Valium for breakfast, then wolfs down her first meal and steals her husband's breakfast as well. After resting for a while, she asks Jay if he's ready to learn what made her almost suicidal. Thus begins her tales on Adam, her first love. Liz transports us to her encounters with Adam, starting from when she's a mischievous 5-year old in her hometown in Malaysia. She says the wrong thing to the right person, and makes her dad get her to promise him to never say 'I love you' to any boy. Liz grows to be an innocent 16-year old preppie in California who falls in love for the first time, a wiser 17-year old back in Malaysia for summer who demands a commitment from her then boyfriend. Tragedy strikes, and Liz loses Adam before she starts college. Twenty one years on, Adam reconnects with her and both exchange e-mails that portray the different paths the former couple took over the years. They agree to meet in person, and Adam returns her the key to her journal. Liz manages to retrieve her journal, and after she reads it, we discover that the whole story told so far is encapsulated in that book. Liz, indeed, has completely forced herself to forget most things on Adam after their breakup in the summer of 88.
What drives Liz suicidal after her date in 2009 with her ex? How does Jay figure into the picture? To find out more, check out the book at the following link: http://www.amazon.com/Rice-fish-squid-lamb-Miriiam/dp/0557531527
And yes, you can browse through a few pages of the book on the Amazon site. Happy exploring!
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